


Momma's Boy

by WholesomeHoli



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Cannibalistic Thoughts, Character Death, Explicit Language, Murder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:14:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21782773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WholesomeHoli/pseuds/WholesomeHoli
Summary: Alastor has gone through a lot throughout his life. When he enters Hell, he realizes that actions may have cconsequences.Rated M for Murder
Relationships: Alastor & Alastor's Mother, Alastor & Husk & Niffty (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor & Husk (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor & Niffty (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 287





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Alastor and his mom run into trouble.

The year is 1893. 

Alastor wiped the tears from his eyes once he saw his gentle mother at the porch. She sat in a rocking chair. Alastor ran into her arms and sighed in relief. Then the tears began to rain again. 

His mother patted his head and smiled, “Smile, darling Alastor. Everything will be alright.” 

He loved to hear her say that. If it were anyone else, Alastor would be resentful with the advice; but not with his mother. He smiled slightly. His mother’s arms reached to his armpits and she tickled him. Alastor giggled into his mother’s arms. She wrapped one of her hands around the young one- the other holding a book- and read to him. 

“ _Everything will be alright.”_

The year is 1902.

Everything is not alright. A knock is at the door. Alastor places his homework down at the sound. Momma doesn’t move to the door; Alastor does. His mother shushes Alastor and begs him not to answer, but Alastor moves closer to satisfy his curiosity.

He hears a man’s voice behind the wood, “I know you’re there, you bitch! Open the fucking door already.”

Alastor’s eyes widened like saucers. He turns to see his mother, who is calm (despite the situation.) She doesn’t move a muscle. The adolescent begins to mouth questions. _Mother, what do we do? Who is this man? Why aren’t we doing anything? Maybe we should call the police?_

She only answered one question, _It’s your father._

What the hell does he want? Alastor moved closer to his mother, but he was nervous. This man, a man he has never met, finally shows after fourteen years. Yet, this man shows no kindness or happiness. Alastor was more afraid to meet his so-called father than he should’ve been.

“Elizabeth! Open the goddamn door!”

Gun shots. His mother embraced him. This all felt so fast. Time sped up and his father was close to breaking the door down. No… no… 

“Alastor, my bambi… “ Elizabeth was crying. Alastor hated to finally see a frown on her face. “I need you to run, bambi, run as far away from here as possible…” She tucked money into his pockets. “These are my savings, Al, use them wisely.”

“Momma! Stop!” Alastor dug his head into his mom’s chest, “I’m not leaving you!”

“Yes, you will, god dammit!” She cried more. “Alastor, say hi to God for me. Promise me that.”

“Yes’m.” Alastor hugged her once more before the door crashed down.

Alastor looked like a deer in headlights at the sound. Elizabeth pushed him away and forced him to the window. She had tears pouring, but a large smile formed on her face. 

“Promise me Al. Goodbye, bambi.”

Alastor waved before running out of the house. He fled to a nearby tree. Tears were streaming, and his hands covered his mouth from screaming. Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam! Gunshots… A scream… A female scream… Momma… no, no, no… Alastor shuddered. He removed his hand to weep. 

“Where is that son-of-a-bitch of yours? What’s his fucking name again? Al? Al, come out! You’re next!” His father called out.

Alastor ran as fast as he could. Tears flew; his hands clutched the money in his pocket. _I promise, momma. I’ll see you again. I promise. That bastard will pay for your life._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where our good friend Alastor continues with his daily routine.

The year is 1910. Alastor is 22. Current time is 5:30 in the morning.

He was lying in bed at the current moment. His eyes staring at the dark ceiling. Slowly, he rolled out of the soft cushions and waltzed into the bathroom. He brushed his hair down- which wasn’t saying much considering he was a light sleeper. He brushed his teeth before walking into his little radio station.  It wasn’t much: a small wooden desk, a chair, and a microphone. Having an at home station worked nicely for Alastor, even as moderate as it was. Means less people to talk to. Even though, he talks to thousands of people when broadcasting. 

The room was… calm… yes, that’s what it was. That soft bubbly feeling that everything is… alright… 

Alastor shook his head with a smile and turned the microphone on. It was currently 5:45. 25 minutes until he was live. He knew his listeners were most of New Orleans- mainly because of his knowledge of the Devil of New Orleans.  Ah, yes. Why did he know so much about the devil? More like: how does he know so much about the murderer? Being an infamous murderer had its perks. Folks would tune in to hear all about the devil’s attempts- mainly to find places to hide before that demon sweeps them. 

Alastor chuckled. 5:59. 3...2...1…

“Good morning, ladies and gents! Thank you for tuning in! I have special news about our good friend: The Devil of New Orleans! Last night counts for his 8th known kill. According to the local cops, Mr. Devil’s victim was a blotto. Poor feller didn’t see it coming.” Alastor tsked. “The weapon is currently unknown. But based off the victim’s marks and multiple stab wounds, Mr. Devil has used a knife or  _ perhaps _ maybe  _ his own hands. _ ”

Alastor moved away from the microphone to laughed at the idea of children running scared inside their home whilst their parents hurry them to their tornado shelter.  _ Quite an entertaining thought, _ he smiled. He moved back to the mike.

“Our precious devil’s scheme took place in the Mundary Pub, right outside of New Orlean’s borders in Gretna. For all near that wretched area, we wish you a safe life and a good sleep. As always, this is Alastor Mast bringing your 6 o’clock news about The Devil of New Orleans! Tune in tomorrow, if you can!” 

That last part was way too suspicious to add. Alastor mentally cursed at himself for adding the detail. None-the-less, Alastor the Devil of New Orleans was homefree. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Alastor goes to a bar.

It’s 1916. 

Alastor is currently being forced by his neighbors into a small bar. He places a forced smile to conceal his discomfort. His fellow neighbors were young adults whilst Alastor was approaching his early 30s. The 3- quite loud- men were laughing over beers; the glasses spilt the alcohol that made Alastor cringe. He just held a little gin and tonic while laughing awkwardly at the sight.

“What a bunch of dicks.” The bartender leaned on the counter.

Alastor turned around to face the rather bushy-looking man. He appeared much older than the radio broadcaster himself. His eyebrows weren’t plucked, and his eyes felt like a cat was looking deep into Alastor’s sin-filled soul.

“You with these jokes, bud?”

Alastor laughed- a genuine one. “Why, yes. I am. Sadly, enough.”

The bartender huffed, looked down at Alastor’s drink, and turned around. Alastor attempt to look through over the bartender’s shoulder to see what he was doing. The man turned back to the younger man and placed another drink down. 

“That one’s on me.” He simply said.

Alastor’s smile grew and his ‘announcer voice’ kicked in, “Why, thank you my friend! May I ask for your name!”

The bartender looked surprised at the sudden gesture, but then he brushed his graying-brown hair back, “Hau; friends call me Husk.”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Husker! Alastor’s the name!”

Hau smirked. “You’re that radio-show host. The one that talks about that Devil of New Orleans.”

Alastor smiled, “Why, yes! You are a fellow listener, I assume?”

“No, I think your show is shit.” Hau fired at the man. “It’s boring and suspicious that you’re so informed by the psychopath's plans.”

Alastor’s grin turned sour but stayed there- already planning Husk’s murder. It was wider and his pearly whites felt threatening to Husk. The bartender backed off and grabbed an empty martini glass. He began to clean it; keeping his cat-like eyes glued at the glass making sure not to look at the bone-chilling radio-show host.

“Doesn’t matter anyways; I’m leaving this hell soon.”

Alastor perked at the suddenly conversation shift, “Oh really?”

“Yeah, going back home in two months.” Hau worked the courage to look at the man. “I’m Vietnamese, so I’m living in Vietnam for the next decade or so. My ma’s waiting for me to basically become her caretaker ‘cause I’m her only kid. I’m rambling, aren’t I? You know you can always stop me.” Hau place the squeaky-clean glass down.

“You’re quite the character, Husker!” Alastor smile loosened, “I’m also not American, so I completely understand!”

“Shit, really? Where you from, Al?”

“My mother was French; my father was Hungarian, I believe. Lovely that we’re able to learn English so nicely!” 

“Heh, yeah.” Hau leaned closer- immediately feeling comfortable with the change of tone. “Ma wanted me to learn, so I could head to the ‘mericas.”

There was that mention of ‘ _ma_ ’ that made Alastor flinch. He wanted to end this conversation short to avoid that pit-feeling. That feeling of being alone. He felt his eyes water and an adam’s apple bob in his throat. _Swallow it. This isn’t a time to cry. You can cry when the bastard is dead. And you killed him by hand._

“A pleasure to meet you, Husk.” Alastor stuck his hand, and Husk shook it. “I wish you a safe journey, and I will remember your name, my dear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hau is a Vietnamese based name, and obviously it's Husk. He won't show up again until later in the story.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Alastor thinks about cannibalism.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Imagery of gore that may be sensitive to readers.




The stock market crash is catching all the news. Alastor had made sure he would be able to pay for his house and food supply, but it wasn’t enough. He knew that his stockpile of food would run out in a few years, so he ate as little as he could. Neighbors that were still around kept their comments about his weight loss to a minimal; those who did mention that Al should eat a sandwich were given death glares. 

God, Alastor was  _ this  _ close to eating the young woman who said that. That little idea came to mind every now and then. Imagine how much food supply he would save if he- if he  _ ate  _ his victims. Soon enough, Alastor found his mouth watering at the sight of his neighbors. Imagining pulling their light callous skin off their bones with his teeth. The chew of their muscles. The taste of blood pooling in his mouth- 

_ Stop this! This is madness!  _ He thought idly.  _ I’m becoming a lunatic!  _ But then the imagery of those cannibalistic thoughts swarmed through his brain.  _ Maybe, just a taste couldn’t hurt.  _

He became hungry. That young woman made his thoughts soar. Just to pull away her scalp, suck her kidney, slurp down an intestine or two! Fuck, the urge was just taunting his will power. 

He began to spy on the girl; he paid close attention to her schedule. Eyeing her when she went on walks with her too-privileged doodle. Damn, that mutt probably had twice the amount of food Alastor will ever have. He soon came to the conclusion that she was alone when she did night walks. Meaning he could feast on her flesh and that wretched bitch too. 

He snuck out of his home and onto the streets. The woman, usually, took her dog to the populated city blocks. Crap, she just had to make his job harder. He hid in an alleyway. Knife in his hand; the blade against his chest. It felt like the tip was piercing his heart as he waited. He killed dozens of women, men, children, so why was this any different. A little yap made his racing thoughts halt, and his arm swung the knife to where the sound was. Oh fucking god. Why was he such a damn mess right now! 

A blunt shriek alerted everyone in the neighborhood. Alastor quickly dragged the bleeding body into an abandoned building in the alley. He lit a match he found in his coat pocket, and held it in front of the person. The fire light warmed his face as he realized he was looking at a little girl. Not his original vitium. A young girl who was bleeding in his arms. A young girl wearing rags. Dirty red hair. Pale skin. Thin stomach. This girl- this girl that he’d stabbed- was poor and dying. She didn’t deserve to die in a murder’s hands. A murder who so desperately tried to kill a neighbor just to consume her flesh!

“What… what…” The young girl’s eyes fixed on the murder. “Who are you!” She attempted to push Alastor away, but a pain in her stomach made her flinch. “What the hell!” She gripped her stomach and rolled onto her side and cried. The girl removed her hand to see red staining it. She wailed at the sight. 

Alastor sat still and watched her react to the situation. He rolled his eyes,  _ Orphans, such pathetic creatures. _

“My dear,” He finally exclaimed. “I apologize for your current injury; but if you want to live, I suggest that you shut up and do as I tell you.”

The girl nodded, but her mouth opened, “What… did you do...?” 

“It’s called Fight or Flight response, sweetheart. I suggest you choose flight and let me carry you to a hospital.” He lied.

“But you…” She grunted, “You hurt me…”

“All an accident.” That part was true. “Come on, my dear, I wouldn’t try anything on you.”

The girl reluctantly wrapped her arms around Alastor’s neck, and the radio broadcaster carried her to the hospital. He told a quick lie, saying that she tripped and a sharp piece of debris hit her stomach. With the crash happening, anyone would believe it. The doctors asked him why the debris wasn’t there, and he responded with an ‘I pulled it out’; earning him a lector he already knew all about. He left as the doctor’s put stitches in the wound. He made sue the little girl would find his note.

“T’was a pleasure to meet you, young lady. I overheard you say your name was Nelly? Nel, dear, consider the surgery a favor for the trouble I caused you.

~Alastor”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I believe you all can figure out who the girl is.


	5. Chapter 5 Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first part of when Alastor fucking dies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is going to be part one of chapter 5. Sorry for the wait!

1933.

The Great Depression was an immediate effect from the stock market crash. Alastor was providing for himself just fine. Granted, his famous crepes would have to be made sparingly; though one sounds pretty good about now. When he felt that bit of anxiety crept in, the one that told him constantly that he was going to die, he resorted to cannibalism. It was fucking disgusting the first time, but soon the surivial strategy began more appealing. Soon, the occasional meal turned into weekly, which turned into daily, which then… 

Then human flesh was his menu for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

After those deliciously, wretched meals, he’d prance into the streets and forests. That annoying mask covered his face; taking precaution of the dust clouds. Children would lay in the street. Some with a mask, some coughing without one. Funny how the sight made Alastor laugh, but why? Was it because they were in a worse situation than he was? Or was the human meat finally getting into his head?

Alastor decided to stay safe with the prior; he didn’t want to lose his appetite. 

* * *

Hunting season was beginning soon, and Al didn’t want to miss his catch- even if the dust meant less deer. With a rifle in hand, he’d leave the city to the hunting ranges. As expected, less folks were there during the time. Alastor recognized the hunters there: the English Tomson and his son, Adrian; American Marcus and his pack of dogs; and American Gale all alone. Alastor knew the only big competitor was Marcus. Marcus was tough in appearance, and hell of a lot faster and stronger than Alastor. Damn those dogs to hell; they’d always get the best stags before Al. 

“Alastor! The good Radiostar!” Marcus slapped the shorter one on the back, “Pleased to see you here, old pal. Thought you’d back down cause of this dusty weather we’re ‘aving, ye?”

_ Fucking stop touching me.  _ Alastor’s smile suddenly switched on.

“Why, Marcus, I’d wouldn’t miss it for the world! Besides, hunting season always makes me wake up and smell the orphans!” Alastor forced a laugh; his squint testing the hunter. Alastor didn’t give a shit if the hunter caught onto his actions. Besides, if he does, Al can tear at his flesh.

“Oh, the classic Radiostar with his jokes!” Marcus laughed along. “Let me know how many you earn today, pal. I’d like to see how far you can go without tiring yourself,” Marcus bent low to Alastor’s ear and dropped his booming voice to a whisper, “Devil of New Orleans.”

“I… don’t understand what you mean.” Alastor stuttered.

“Sure you fucking do.” Marcus rolled his eyes. “The fucking Devil of New Orleans strutting around eating children and neighbors! How in hell would Alastor the Good Radiostar know that the Devil became a cannibalist? All of New Orleans knows you never leave your home. Guess what, hotshot, people talk about how you’d sneak out at night- how you return in the morning to spread the Devil’s corrupt system- how you know his information before the cops. Riddle me that, bastard.”

The hunter’s shouting caused a massive scene. Alastor remained stuck to the floor. Marcus’ dogs growling behind their respective owner; they were ready to back up their owner if Al made any false moves. Gale was almost out the door, but the yelling made him stop like a deer in headlights. Tomson placed his son behind him; his arm blocking the minor. Adrian held on tight to his rifle; Alastor could see his sweaty hands slipping at the gun. 

_ Laugh it off, Al. Laugh it off. _

Alastor shook his head, and his infamous smile returned once more, “My dear, all that deer meat must’ve made you gone mad! Not to worry! I know my radio shows seem skeptical, but believe me, I would never perform such a… disgusting action!”

Gale’s gaze became kind, “Hah! O’ Marcus, you got the man all wrong! I could never imagine our good Radiostar eating another person. Why, it’s inhumane. Only a devil, such as New Orlean’s infamous one, would succumb to those foul measures!”

Adrian lowered his gun, “You’re right! Marcus is just all brawn and no brain, there!”

The group laughed while Marcus fumed. 

_ Just laugh it off. Laugh it off, Al.  _


	6. Chapter 5: Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second part of when Alastor fucking dies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Contains graphic descriptions of violence

Everything was still. It was calm. Until an occasional gun shot caused the deer to flee. Alastor sighs with an eye roll as he gets up to move to another location. Well, shit. Guess this stupid Depression is truly hurting him now. Gun shots sounded off around him, indicating that all the spots were taken. With a heavy heart, he begins to trail to the exit. 

“Leaving so soon?” 

Alastor stops dead in his tracks, and his pupils flick up and freeze. He moves his head over his shoulder with a dead grin. Standing there, with a rifle in hand, was Marcus. He seemed to have lost the hate in his eye. Alastor decided to face the man forward.

“Why, my friend,” Alastor began, “Seems as if all the good spots were taken away! Why, I’m just heading home for the day!” He pivoted on his heel and turned to the exit trail. “Should be more hunt tomorrow, I presume!”

Marcus gave an unconvincing hmpt; his eyebrows creasing. 

“Say, my radioman, why don’cha come hunt with me and my pack. We can split the profit? What do you say?” Marcus willingly stuck his hand out.

Alastor stuck his hand against his chin and hummed.

“Alright,” He shook the hunter’s hand, “It’s a deal.”

The two remained at a reasonable distance. Alastor didn’t appreciate that Marcus’s dogs were staring at him- creepy bastards. The two continued to stalk for deer until Al got a lucky shot; Marcus patted his back and instructed him to claim his prize. Alastor wandered to the fallen deer to end it’s sad, pathetic life. Then a pain rushed to his leg. He looked down to see his right angle bleeding with a bullet size hole indented in it. Alastor looked up to see Marcus standing with his shot gun in hand. Alastor fell to the ground and held his leg. 

“Why…” Alastor sighed.

“You’re a bastard, Radiostar. You deserve hell!” Mascus yelled. “People may not believe me, but I know a fraud and a cheat when I see one.”

Alastor emitted a low chuckle as the hunting dogs surrounded him.

“Alright, my friend, you’re quite smart.” 

Alastor laughed something awful. He cackled with glee; Marcus, though having the upper hand, felt disturbed and frightened.

“Why are you laughing? You’re bleeding! I learned your crimes! Why are you laughing?” Marcus screamed.

“You can’t hurt a sociopath anymore.” Alastor smiled. “I admit: I killed deer for sport, I killed children and people to prepare myself to murder someone who made me this way, I  _ ate  _ others in desperate times. So tell me, Marcus, what’s the difference between you and I?”

“You… you’re insane!”   
  


“Wrong answer. The right one is that you’re going to be a murder. So do your worst.”

Marcus was unable to move. However, his dogs did the talking and began to tear away at the radio star. Alastor stared at the hunter dead in the eye as he felt the life drain out of his body. 

Then everything felt dark.


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Alastor lands in Hell.

Alastor felt his stomach drop- literally dropped. With a gruesome scream, he fell. His eyes opened to see a red sky with a large pentagram above. As he fell, buildings began to grow taller until he hit the ground. With a painful groan, he sat up. His eyes met a city painted red with strange cars passing by. He looked around to see that he conveniently landed on a sidewalk and took the time to notice the strange people passing by.

If you could call them “people” that is. The passersby were humanoid: some had the appearance of an animal, some commonly being wolves, while some were pure red with horns and a forked tail that Alastor could only classify as devils or demons. None looked human.

Then Alastor quickly noticed  _ his  _ appearance. He looked at his hands to see a dark, blackish hand with red tips. He could only see his sleeve, which gave him a small impression of his attire. Shit, it was red. Really, really red. Not a bad thing; it just seemed over the top. With a simple shrug- the Radiostar wasn’t known for his fashion sense- he began to ask where the Hell he was. 

Ironically, he was in Hell. However, the other demons’ comments about how he was a newbie were fucking annoying. He then began to ask where he could find the one in charge. Demons rolled their eyes until they told him Lucifer Magne was the overall ruler of Hell; as of right now, Al was stuck in a small turf owned by a snake demon who went by the name Sir Pentious. He sounded pretentious, but if anyone was to help him out, it’ll be him. 

He made his way to an industrial-like home and knocked at the door. A small egg creature opened the door.

“Greetings, small fiend.” Alastor smiled, “I’m looking for a Sir Pentious. This is his estate, is it not?” 

The egg thing said yes and called for someone named “Mr. Boss Man.” The egg was kicked out of view and a fairly tired snake demon appeared at the doorway. 

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, I was hoping to get some sense of direction. I’m, what they call, a fresh demon.” 

Sir Pentious seemed amused, “You're pretty smart; most newbies don’t think to ask turf owners and usually end up homeless.” He slurred. 

“Why thank you, my friend.” Alastor felt more at peace, “May I come in.” 

“I don’t see why not. Come in, and we’ll discuss what your next step should be.” Sir Pent gestured to the deer demon to step in. 

The snake closed the door and slithered through the house. He stopped in the living room and sat on a golden colored chair; Alastor sat on the green couch. The snake demon offered Al some tea, in which Al was happy to accept. Before Sir Pentious was able to speak, Alastor asked a question.

“So, what  _ are  _ your little minions?”

“My little creations: egg bois!” Alastor stared at him with a confused expression. “I’m serious. I developed them with Lucifer, as he is one of our most powerful demons.”

Alastor gave a noted hum, and he took a sip of his tea, “Pray tell, who is this Lucifer? Is he Satan?” 

Sir Pent smiled, “Oh, no. Despite what religions want you to think, Lucifer is an Overlord. Yes, he is a fallen angel, but here he holds a massive amount of the Pentagram; some even refer to him as the King of Hell. Nevertheless, he is one of Hell’s main heads in the world, and it’s best not to mess with him. Especially as a fresh demon.” 

Alastor jumped up, “Where can I find him?” 

Sir Pentious seemed taken aback and stuttered, “W...What! Were you even listening! You’d have to be crazy!”

“He helped you with your egg bois, did he not?”

“Yes, yes, but that was AFTER I earned a respectable amount of turf. Going into there with nothing is sucide!”

“Don’t you worry, my friend,” Alastor pulled his sleeves, “I have wonderful negotiation skills and a charm like no other! He’s my next step.”

He smiled and turned to the snake demon. Was it just Sir Pent or was there radio feedback? The deer demon stepped closer with a grin.

“Now, if you would just tell me those directions, my dear.”


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Alastor tries to sneak into the Magne house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I lost some motivation with this work for a while, but I got some back.

It took some convincing, but Sir Pentious told Alastor how to get to the Magne household. He warned the deer demon that Lucifer doesn’t take kindly to new demons. He explained that the Overlord only helps demons who have a status; Alastor would be considered a lost cause. Nevertheless, Alastor bid the snake demon goodbye and took off. 

It was nice that Hell had ways of transportation- most areas had trolleys and trains- things Al was used to. Apparently, technology in the living world corresponds with Hell’s technology. Apparently, ALL of Hell corresponds with the world- down to the date. 

Alastor hopped onto a train that was traveling down to the Magne residence. After a few train switches, the deer demon finally arrived at Lucifer's turf. He wandered through the turf to get to the center where the Magne building stood. He stood at the gold and reddish gates, and just stared at the huge building in front of him until a humanoid woman who wore a uniform of some sort spoke.

“Can I help you?” She seemed rather annoyed. 

“Why, yes! You can!” Alastor stuck his hand out, and he shook the woman’s hand. “Name’s Alastor; charmed to meet you. Now how do I see Lucifer Magne?” 

The woman scoffed, “You need to book a meeting with Mister Magne at least 2 days prior; besides, he’s stuck in meetings for the day.” 

Alastor rolled his eyes with a smile, “I see that you don’t understand. Let me spell it out: I’m going in there to talk with Lucifer whether he’s busy or not.” 

Alastor then- being a reckless little shit- pushed the woman out of his way and ran into the courtyard. The woman yelled for security, but Alastor hid in the courtyard bushes. Once the trio of guards past his hiding place, Alastor sighed and turned around. 

He was surprised to see a small young girl, with beautiful blonde hair and pale skin, smiling up at him. She had her hands behind her, and her big, curious eyes frightened the deer demon. Unsure of what to do, Alastor furrowed his eyebrows and waved. 

The girl giggled and waved back, “Hello! Are you trying to see Papa?” 

Alastor gave a slow nod; this girl must be a Magne. 

The little lady looked down at the ground and pouted, “I want to see him too, but  _ Momma  _ and him have meetings to attend too.” She had the say the fucking word, didn’t she. “Hey!” The girl smiled again, “Maybe we can both get in there! Like a team! You get to talk with Papa, and I get to see my parents!” 

That would be the worst plan ever. Al would probably be banned from the Magne household, never to get the help he needs, and this Magne kid would be supervised 24/7. 

“Sorry, my dear.” Alastor patted her head, “But I don't want to get you in trouble.” 

“It'll be alright,” The girl frowned. “Could I _please_ help you? I know a secret entrance where no one can find us!” 

Alastor smiled, “That’s a wonderful idea. Let’s go, my dear.” 

* * *

Soon the girl and Alastor were shuffling in a small tunnel, with the girl in the lead. “I’m Charlie, by the way.” The girl stated. “Who are you?” 

“The name is Alastor, darling.” 

She giggled, “You talk so dapperly!” 

“Dapperly?” 

“Yeah! You always say ‘my dear’ or ‘darling’! It’s so fancy; I wanna speak like that!”

Alastor smiled- a real genuine smile- at the young girl. The two continued to crawl as Charlie asked questions. Ones including, “Why do you want to see Papa?” and “Are you a new demon?” and “What kind of demon are you?” Eventually the two parted ways once they reached the end. 

Charlie pointed to a room at the end of the hall, “Papa should be in there. He’s talking with a bunch of Overlords, so you have to wait for him. My momma’s in that room!” Charlie pointed to a room across from them. “If you need me, I’ll be in there!” 

“Will do, Charlie.” Alastor nodded. 

Charlie hugged his legs briefly before disappearing into the room. Alastor stood in front of the door Charlie walked into for a bit with a small smile before walking over to Lucifer's room, and he opened the doors. Show time. 


End file.
